Boozy Truth Time
by J.W.Melmoth
Summary: 5 x 02 fic - drunk (lolKlaine) confessions at the NY loft... NOT KLAINE FRIENDLY.


**THIS FIC IS NOT KLAINE-FRIENDLY.**

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><p>"Come on, give me some more bubbly," Rachel urged Kurt, nudging him with the toe of her boot.<p>

"Can't, it's all gone," replied Kurt from his spot on the floor.

"What do you mean? We got two bottles!" Rachel protested.

"Yeah, and between the four of us, that was three glasses each," Kurt reminded her.

"Oh yeah. I forgot about Dani."

"I haven't," Santana replied, sounding rather smug.

"Yeah, she's nice. I'm sorry she had to leave so early," Kurt offered.

"Well, she has an early shift tomorrow so I guess it's for the best…" Santana sighed. "Great, now I need another drink too." She glanced towards the kitchen. "Don't we have anything else?"

Kurt gave it some thought. "We might have some red wine left. Adam brought red and white for dinner a few weeks ago and we had paella." He gave himself a mental pat on the back for mentioning Adam's name without flinching. It was all pretty fresh.

Rachel rolled onto her stomach and lifted herself up on her elbows to look at Kurt. He looked back at her for a moment and then rolled his eyes and sighed, getting up to get it.

"You know, for a girl with two gay dads you're pretty un-feminist," he commented. "Just because I'm a guy and you're a girl doesn't make me your valet."

Rachel giggled, and Kurt silently wondered if she really needed another drink. She seemed pretty far gone already. Then again, they were celebrating her getting the part of Fanny, so he supposed she deserved to let loose. He reached for the bottle from the shelf in the kitchen and rummaged around the drawers for the opener for a bit before walking back over to the girls. They were both giggling now, and something told him it wasn't still about what he had said.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Oh," Rachel replied, wiping a tear from her eye, "Santana was just telling a funny story about the time Brittany tried to teach Lord Tubbington to play fetch with a… with a-" she dropped her voice to a whisper. "_Dildo_."

Santana smirked. "Well, the box did say 'your pussy will love it'…"

Kurt made a face. "I'm not drunk enough for these kinds of stories."

Santana snatched the bottle from his hand. "Then sit yourself down and have a drink, Porcelain, because auntie Tana wants to talk to you crazy kids about the birds and the bees. Now, the both of you have been single for months, in New York-" she filled their glasses almost up to the brim, downed half of hers, and pointed at Rachel, "Fanny here even dated a prostitute-"

"Male escort," Rachel corrected her. Santana ignored it.

"And yet you can't even say the _word_ dildo out loud, which I find interesting because you seemed to know what it was for last Christmas," Santana continued. Rachel gasped. Santana turned to Kurt. "And _you_ dumped your classy British studmuffin for a highschool dwarf from Ohio who is probably about as well-endowed as a baby carrot. _Clearly_ you two have your priorities all wrong."

Kurt stared at the wine for a moment as he filtered Santana's words through the haze in his mind. "Wait…what?" he finally asked.

Rachel poked Santana in the side. "You said you wouldn't tell," she whispered. She gave Santana a pleading look but the Latina paid it no heed. It looked like she was really enjoying Rachel's discomfort. She pointed a well-manicured nail at Kurt.

"Last Christmas, when you were getting your little roleplay action on with Burglar Santa, Berry and I played a few rounds of _hide the candy cane_ourselves."

Kurts jaw dropped and he looked at Rachel. "Oh my god, _Rachel_…?" Kurt started.

"I barely remember anything," Rachel said too quickly, blushing hard.

"Me neither, who _did_ end up wearing the strap-on?" Santana mused. Kurt put his fingers in his ears and started humming loudly.

"_Santana_!" Rachel hissed warningly, her eyes almost shooting fire.

"Yeah, probably," Santana agreed, and Rachel hid her face in a pillow. Santana shrugged. "What? Come on, we were both totally wasted. Finn's not gonna mind. He'd probably think it's hot." Her smile grew. "I made out with Brittany once in front of him so he'd pay for our dinner at Breadstixx." Then, as if she had flipped a switch, Santana's smile faded and her eyes became sad. She quickly downed the dregs of her wine and held out her glass to Kurt. He discretely nodded at the bottle, which was still in her other hand. Before she could refill her glass, Rachel snatched it from her.

"You owe me," she hissed under her breath, and filled her own glass.

Kurt was still looking at Santana.

"What?" she asked. "It's not like I seduced her or anything. She came on to me. You know how Berry gets when she's drunk. Need I remind you of the time she facesucked with your fiancé?"

Kurt made a face. "Oh god, please don't," he said, and badly repressed a shudder. "I still can't believe he did that."

"What's wrong with-" Rachel started, but the both of them ignored her.

"Why? Because he wasn't allowed to be curious? Not all of us get a visit from the magical glitter fairy at the tender age of four informing us of our bright future in interior design and make-overs, you know." Santana said. "Some of us need a helping hand. Or, you know, a couple of fingers anyway. Take Quinn for example-"

Kurt, who had just taken a sip of his wine, started coughing. "Quinn too?!" he brought out, his voice raw and wet. "Are there any girls on the New Directions that you _haven't _slept with?!"

"You mean besides _you_?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. Santana sighed and flopped onto her stomach, propping her chin up on her hands. "Well, there's Tina, who only sung about kissing girls because she was in her rebellious phase, and I'm pretty sure Mercedes would slap me with a bible if I so much as tried…"

"Quinn? Seriously? When did this happen?" Rachel asked wide-eyed, clearly not ready to move on yet.

"At Mr Schue's almost wedding," Santana replied smirking. "And don't look so jealous. You were busy almost getting knocked up, remember?"

"I am so done with both of you," Kurt mumbled. "This is like the Twilight Zone."

"Hey, it's not like you were a little angel at that party, Mr One-Hottie-In-New-York-And-One-Hobbit-In-Lima," Santana replied.

"What, so you get to do everyone we've ever been friends with, but I can't even hook up with my ex-boyfriend? Everyone but Mr Schue was getting laid that night," Kurt said defensively.

Santana raised her palms in a sign of surrender. "Not judging you, Hummel. Or, well, I am - but not for wanting to get some. Just for your taste in men."

Kurt sighed. "Okay, I'll bite. Tell me, get it out of your system, and then we can progress to the part of the evening where we are so drunk we are taking turns hanging over the toilet instead of talking. What's wrong with Blaine?"

"Well," Santana started, "apart from the fact that he dresses like a white Steve Urkel and uses more gel on his hair than a vet uses lube on his arm for an elephant's rectal exam, you can't tell me you actually _like_ having sex with him. I mean, he's like Dr Evil's mini-me in a wig and a bowtie." She held out her pinkie finger and wriggled it.

Despite himself, Kurt's lips curled up a little before he could pull them down sternly again. "That is so none of your business, Santana," he replied. He quickly hid his face in his wine glass.

"Yeah, Santana, maybe Kurt is actually the one doing the… _you know_?" Rachel's voice dropped to a whisper at the end of her sentence and she gave Santana a meaningful look.

"Oh my god, Berry, have you _seen_ Lady Hummel?" Santana replied, and Kurt set his glass down on the floor with a thump.

"Actually, Blaine and I switch," he said, no longer amused. "And your stereotyping and namecalling is getting really old, Santana. I am not a woman, and Blaine is not 'the guy' in our relationship. We both are. And yeah, maybe he doesn't exactly fill out his briefs like David Beckham in his H&M ad-"

"I knew it," interjected Santana triumphantly.

"-but that doesn't mean sex with him isn't satisfactory," Kurt finished, crossing his arms over his chest. "Size isn't everything."

Santana sat up. "Okay, then explain to me why your other boytoys were all taller than you."

Kurt frowned. "My boytoys?"

"Adam, sexy Santa - both buff and tall and definitely up to par with Beckham-"

"How would you-?" Rachel started, but Santana waved her off with a hand.

"Trust me, it's all in the walk, I dated enough guys like them," she said casually before turning back to Kurt.

"Two is hardly a type," he said, "and I didn't have sex with Cody." He tried to keep a pokerface as he forced the memories of the snowed-in weekend with Adam out of his mind.

"What about that guy from Between the Sheets?" Rachel asked. "Blaine said he was like, this big college dude…"

"He said _what_!?" Kurt couldn't believe his ears. "He never even _saw_Chandler! He looked like a fourteen year old!" Before Santana could say anything, he quickly added: "And I did _not _have sex with him either! Did Blaine actually say that?"

Santana nodded.

"So that's why you all sang that Whitney Houston song with him," Kurt said, slowly realising what had happened in his senior year. "Rachel, you actually thought…?"

Rachel shrugged. "You seemed kind of happy, Kurt. Glowy. Like…you know…"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I can't believe Blaine would spread such a rumour about me. And I can't believe _you_ believed it!"

"Well, you did apologise to him in song," Santana said. "Why would you do that if nothing happened?"

Kurt bit his lip. At the time, he just wanted him and Blaine to get along again, be a happy couple again. If that meant reaffirming his love through song… but would he have done that if he had known what Blaine had told the others?

He looked down on his engagement ring. Sometimes he wondered how many more lies Blaine had told him over the years. Ever since their break-up, every time Blaine said he wanted to have a 'serious talk' or even if he was more silent that usual, Kurt was afraid he was going to spill out another confession of something horrible.

"I'm hungry," he mumbled, getting up and taking the empty bottle of wine with him. He walked to the kitchen and set the bottle down. "It'll be different once he comes to New York," he said, his back turned to the girls. He opened the cupboard over the sink and contemplated its contents for a moment. "It's easier to be a couple when you live together." He closed the cupboard and opened the fridge instead, pulling out a cardboard box with half a cheesecake.

Santana snorted. "You really think so? Just like it's _super-easy_ to be friends with Rachel if you're waiting for your turn in the bath, or have to listen to her vocal warm-us before breakfast?"

"_Hey_," Rachel interjected.

"What? I am just saying that liking someone doesn't mean you can tolerate them around you 24/7. And I honestly don't think Blaine is gonna take any less time in the bathroom, or be any less annoying when he's constantly breaking out in song."

Rachel frowned a little. "She might have a point," she conceded. "When Finn and I were engaged, our parents kind of arranged for us to spend the night together, and we were already arguing about our night time rituals before we got into bed." Kurt turned back to look at her in surprise. She gave him a pointed look. "He wanted to use the toilet in front of me," she whispered.

Kurt quickly hid his smile by turning back to take a knife from the drawer. He opened the box. "Blaine and I already know each other's quirks and rituals. We Skype a lot."

"Oh god, yes, the Skype snoozefests," Santana moaned. "I can actually hear you from my couch. It's so boring! All Blaine does is talk about his solos and his bowties and his hairgel and all the stuff he and Sam got up to- I can't believe they actually call themselves 'Blam' like it's a thing now- and all you do is go 'wow, really?' and 'that's great'… I personally can't _wait_ to see that act here in real life. He's like a one-man band and you're the audience."

"Then maybe you should move out," Kurt replied, cutting the cheesecake with more force than necessary. He wasn't sure what angered him more- the fact that she had indiscreetly listened to his Skype calls or that she was right. Blaine did talk about himself a lot.

"Hey, come on, we're celebrating here," Rachel reminded them. That seemed to sober up Santana a little.

"Believe it or not, Porcelain, this is in your best interest. I don't think he's the right guy for you."

"Yeah, well, what do you know about guys anyway," Kurt mumbled grudgingly, but he carried back the cheesecake to their space on the floor and sat down again.

"Come on, _satisfactory_? That's not something you say about sex with your dream prince," Santana said. "You deserve fireworks."

Kurt shrugged. He was still thinking about the thing with Chandler, feeling more than a little betrayed that the girls hadn't told him back then. Why now, when it was already too late? He looked at Santana. "As I recall, you were there at the proposal too, cheering along with everyone else."

Santana shrugged. "Heat of the moment. I guess being back in Lima messed with my brain." She took a piece of cake. "The more I see of you here in New York, the more I believe you're meant for bigger and better things, Hummel. And I'm not just talking metaphorically here." She waggled her eyebrows.

Kurt shook his head, but he couldn't repress a small smile. Back to _that_ topic again. "So, what should I do, Santana? Break off the engagement and put a lonely hearts ad in the paper? _'Under 8 inches need not apply_'?"

Rachel giggled.

"Why not?" Santana replied. "Or just tell Adam you had a momentary lapse of judgement and tell him to get his cookie-baking self back into our kitchen and his inches back into your bed. I'm pretty sure he won't object to that."

"God, those cookies," Rachel sighed longingly.

"Yeah…" Kurt sighed as well, not thinking about Adam's cookies.

He licked some cheesecake off his fingers, sucking the wet tips pensively. He was drunk, angry at Blaine and now -thanks to Santana- also horny.

He looked at the girls and made up his mind. "If I call him and he wants to come over, I want you both to scram. I can't get laid with the two of you hovering and giggling behind the curtain."

The girls exchanged glances, then nodded. All-night karaoke bar it was.

"And-" Kurt added, "I want you to swear you won't tell Blaine."

Rachel opened her mouth but Kurt held up his finger to silence her. "Because I will tell him myself. I am not doing this and then going back to him pretending nothing happened. I'm not like him. If Adam wants me back, Blaine and I are done."

Santana smiled, and for once she looked proud rather than smug. She held out her pinky finger. Rachel quickly linked hers around it and they both looked at Kurt.

Kurt slipped his ring off his finger and curled his pinky around both of theirs'. He felt a little giddy, the cheesecake giving him a sugar-high on top of the alcohol, but for the first time in weeks, he knew exactly what he wanted. Fireworks.


End file.
